Time of choosing
by Steebe
Summary: John has started his new life with Mary and their six month old daughter. Will the nightmares he keeps having prevent him from meeting his best friend, who is a sociopath? How will John confront him after he starts to realize that he misses his detective more than he should be? What about this love triangle? Johnlock, future slight smutt (rated M) based off of my other story.


**Author's Note:** _This story is based off of my first Johnlock story, What's really killing you. It is from John Watson's point of view as a request from someone who read my other story. Unlike the other story, this one is rated M for future smutt but I will warn before that so as to prepare everyone. This is a work of pure fanfiction and I obviously don't own Sherlock or any of the characters._

John had a nightmare that night, just like every other night. His baby girl was sitting in the living room playing with the cute little doll he and Mary had bought her the day she was born. Mary had been sitting next to her smiling ever so gently and sincerely. John felt happy seeing his family there with him safe and sound. It was at this moment when he felt scared knowing what came after this part of his dream.

The room suddenly became filled with dark shadows. Mary and the baby were terrified. Although John couldn't hear them, he knew they were screaming and yelling. John was then unable to move towards them as he saw that his wrists and feet were chained up to a wall. He saw Moriarty appear from the shadows with an annoying grin across his face. He was next to his baby and wrapped his hand around her small neck.

Magnussen appeared next to Mary, holding a gun in his hand pointed to her head. John struggled to move, but failed. He slowly pulled the trigger while Moriarty gripped his daughter's throat tighter and tighter. Then everything went black and he could hear himself screaming.

He woke up sweating and alone in his bed. He quickly got out and rushed to his baby's nursery in hopes to find them there. Fortunately, they were there. Tired, but they were there together and safe.

"What's wrong, John? I heard you crying from our room. Did you have another nightmare?" Mary was holding the baby in her arms as she softly snored on her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah but uh I'm alright. How's Britney doing?" John responded nervously.

"She's asleep now, finally. I can't help but feel happy when I hold her in my arms like this. Want to hold her yourself for a bit?"

John nodded in response and stood out his arms to Mary as she kissed Britney's forehead before handing her over to John. He smiled as he felt her tiny breaths on his chest. He held her tight in his arms and didn't notice his tears hitting her rosy cheeks. Mary went up to him wiping away those tears on his eyes and looking at him with a half smile.

"John, you've done so much to protect us. Look at her John. She's able to sleep peacefully because of you right now. You're a great husband and a doting father." Mary kissed John's cheek and took Britney away from him as she laid her down in her crib. Once they both took one last glance at their child, they left the room.

"You're a bad friend though John." Mary whispered as she took his hand and lead him to the living room. John let out a long sigh and sat down on the couch next to the one where Mary was sitting on. "It's been months since the last time you saw him, John. I bet you don't even call or text him as well. How long are you going to avoid him now?"

"Mary, Moriarty is back and I'm not completely sure if he had something to do with that Magnussen person, but right now, all I care about is protecting you two. I'm sure Sherlock doesn't even notice me being gone by now anyways-"

"John." Mary interrupted him and looked down at her hands. She then looked up at him and put up an effort to smile at him. "John, I know your reasons mean well. However, that doesn't mean you can just run away from him. He's your best friend John, have you forgotten that? Or the fact that the reason Magnussen is dead in the first place is because of him? He also saved your friend's life at our wedding didn't he? What about all those other times in your cases where Sherlock has helped you out?"

"Mary, even if I could go visit him now what would it change? I've already avoided him since the day our daughter was born. Sure, they skype with each other, but I don't think he could actually interact with her face-to-face properly."

"Well, why not teach him? I'm sure that this human interaction will help him as well be less of a sociopath anyways."

Sociopath. That word had a certain ring to John's ears. He imagined Sherlock awkwardly staring at his daughter and blush every time she would giggle or laugh. Or maybe even start to panic the moment she began to cry and try to deduce the reason for her whining. Maybe his human side would start to show once he is confronted with another human life such as a child who couldn't judge him like any other adult. John smiled as he thought about all this and looked at Mary as he reached out for her hand.

"Alright, I'll think of a good day to come over and talk with him." With that, they both headed to their room and went to sleep. John had a different dream this time.

It started off with him being at Sherlock's flat. He heard footsteps and turned towards the sound only to find the detective playing a lively tune for a beautiful baby girl as she clapped along. Sherlock was dancing and smiling as Britney was giggling away nonstop, making her rosy cheeks even more red. Sherlock had put down his violin and bent down to carry her in his arms and swung her around the room, both laughing with their eyes shut. Sherlock stopped next to John and handed him the child who was now quietly laughing herself to sleep. She laid there in his arms with a huge smile on her face. John felt warm arms around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder.

"Isn't she beautiful, John?" A deep voice whispered in his ear and sent shivers down his spine. John couldn't help but nod and put his cheek near Sherlock's.

"If only she was ours, John." Soon those warm arms left John and he felt cold. He turned around to find Sherlock fade away. He was smiling, but John knew he was hurt. Tears streamed down his pointy cheekbones and then he vanished. John was left alone in their old flat, and just like Sherlock, it began to slowly began to disappear. John desperately looked around for Sherlock but couldn't find him.

John woke up again. This time he felt weird. He didn't wake up like he normally did after having a nightmare. Would he even call that dream a nightmare? He sat up slowly so not to wake up Mary. He made his way to the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He stared back at his reflection in the mirror.

"What was that dream just now?" John whispered. He could still feel Sherlock's arms around his waist. They fit there so perfectly, as if they were made for him. The warm breaths that traveled from his neck up to his ears. Both male's cheeks slightly touching, and that sensation just made John blush and flinch at that exact fact.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" John was furious with himself and started getting ready for work angrily. He had very few patients recently. No real emergencies just normal day to day check-ups. John was just about to leave with Mary when they got a call from Mycroft. John was a bit surprised to have Mycroft actually call him and not kidnap him.

"Hello?" John said into his phone

"John, head over to Sherlock's flat immediately and bring some medical equipment with you there. Door is open, so just go in." With that, Mycroft hung up the phone. John looked at Mary who was already staring at him wide-eyed. They gathered whatever equipment they thought would be necessary. An ambulance followed their cab up to Baker Street. It was just as Mycroft said, Sherlock's door was opened and John let himself in. Both Mary and him looked frantically around the flat in search for the detective. John noticed steam coming from the bathroom door. When he tried opening it, he saw that it was locked. He knocked, but decided it'd be better if he'd just kick it down, which was actually a good idea. Sherlock stood in front of the vapor covered mirror with hot boiling water running down his arm and stomach. One hand stood pierced into the shattered mirror as blood dripped down his knuckles unto the side of his shirt and fell to the floor. Some of the water on the tiled floor had a mixture of skin and blood.

After standing there looking at the scene, John grabbed Sherlock and pulled him out of the bathroom. He was abnormally light for someone his size. John laid him down on the ground, his eyes were unfocused and was still bleeding. What bothered him most was the stench of twelve different drugs on Sherlock.

"Sherlock can you hear me? Are you in any serious pain? Just hang on you're going to be alright, 'kay? I'm right here, say anything at any time." John got no response but as soon as Sherlock's eyes were on his he felt guilty for some reason. As if all of this, was precisely his own fault.

"Who're...you?" Sherlock barely mumbled. His already pale face only becoming paler and eyes filled with trapped tears. No matter how much he blinked, they couldn't escape. John held him tighter and spoke back to him while Mary went for Mrs. Hudson.

"It's alright Sherlock. Mary and I are here. Mrs. Hudson is here as well. You're brother told us to come. Do you remember me? It's John." After saying his name, John found Sherlock passing out in his arms. His breathing was uneven and he nuzzled up close to him. John began to panic but then Mycroft had the medics take him away and John followed them to the ambulance. John watched as his best friend being taken away by strangers. He stood next to him as he was put on a gurney and an oxygen mask on his face. John blocked out all the noises. It was as f they were the only two people in the world.

"Sherlock? Hey, listen to me, keep fighting to the end alright? If you die now there won't be any more cases for you to solve. Who will make fun of Anderson when you're gone? Come on Sherlock, hang in there." John held onto Sherlock's cold hands and bit his lower lip. They finally arrived at St. Bart's hospital and they took Sherlock directly to the E.R. John had been left behind in the waiting room. He fearfully watched the doors close behind Sherlock and he could feel that his heart was about to burst out from his chest at any second.

"Please, please be alright you idiot." John whispered to himself.


End file.
